Darling, your ring is missing
by nubivagantNefelibata
Summary: "Kaneki?" A cup of coffee spills and breaks, and his heart aches. Even now, he can't place these lingering feelings, and the ache is his heart is still heavy. However, when he looks at her, and sees a possibility. –Haise Sasaki and Touka Kirishima/Touken. TG:re. Rated T for Touka's cursing.
1. Chapter 1

"_Kaneki?" A cup of coffee spills and breaks, and his heart aches. Even now, he can't place these lingering feelings. _

–_Haise Sasaki and Touka Kirishima. TG:re._

_**Dedication: For Kaneki and Touka and all the times they've should've had together.**_

_**Note: Just swept through Tokyo Ghoul and all the chapters currently out of TG:re. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around it. It feels like it's going to explode. Crap. HELP. WHAT. HAPPENED. KANEKI. SASAKI?! MY CCHILD/huSBANDO?!11!1 SCREAM—…This also turned out a LOT longer than planned. Oh, well.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Tokyo Ghoul or any of its characters. It's simply a beautiful manga/anime. That is all. Excuse me while I calm down. Just. *sigh***_

_**Enjoy! **_

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These lingering, aching feelings are cause of my sleepless nights.

It's an itch in the middle of my back. They're always there, nagging at me, constantly letting me know they're still there, and I can't scratch it to make it go away.

My memories are that itch.

Naturally, I should want them to return. I _should_ wish for my memories to come back to me, like any normal person would, but yet…

I don't want them. I never want them to come back.

Instead, I'm afraid. This is one of the few things I am absolutely certain about; I am completely and utterly afraid of my memories. The looming question is if I regain my memories, would I ever be the same person again? Would I be able to keep my friends—my family close by my side?

I doubt it. I really do.

For the sake of my life, I beg for them to be trapped away forever. True, perhaps I'll die without ever knowing who I ever was, but if I had protected my friends and myself because of it, I'll have no regrets.

Throughout my everyday life, I can feel that painful ache in my chest. When I drank coffee for the first time in my two years, my heart ached so bad I believed it would burst. To this day, I've thought and thought and thought about why it elicited such a reaction from me, but I've come up with nothing.

All I know now is that it's important to me. As small and insignificant as coffee is (my subordinates have reminded me all too well), it's one of the only things that brings me and settles me down in a comfortable peace. Unfortunately, it's difficult for me to make a proper cup in the morning, since I'm always so rushed! It's such a shame, really. Black coffee is simply so bitter and strong (not that I don't enjoy it).

I suppose it makes my trips to :re all the more sweet.

I'm making a trip there today. It's a pleasant Sunday morning, and, for once, I finally have my morning off. I don't start work until later in the afternoon. Everyone else took it as their queue to sleep in, but I'm certain my body clock is locked and set to waking up at six in the morning. It's not a problem, it just…happens to make me a very sleep-deprived individual. But, like I said, it's not a problem! Remember, I have black coffee every day in the morning.

However, I saved my first cup of the day for the café. I open the door slowly, making sure not to make too much noise, since the hinges are squeaky. The little golden bell connected to the door gives a soft, gentle ding. The place is empty, not even with a speck of dust to be seen. As expected, I guess. It _has_ only just opened five minutes ago.

I—no. I can't believe I missed it. There's another person here, and it's the very…very, beautiful waitress. She's slouching behind the sleek, dark counter, wiping her eyes and making groggy noises. She lets out a large, stretched out yawn, flings her arms up into the air, and stretches. Her eyes squeeze shut in her yawn.

"_Yomo?_ That you?" she asks loudly. I should really say something, shouldn't I?

"Um, actually, it's…" What should I say? "…a customer," I finish finally. Her eyes flash open, and in the back her throat, she makes a small choking noise. It would be rude to say, but it's honestly a little funny. She straightens her posture quickly, obviously trying to appear unfazed.

"Back again, I see," she states as if she's been expecting me. I would be surprised if she didn't—I've kind of been trying to come here at least once a week. "The usual?"

"Aha hah, that would be great," I laugh. She doesn't laugh as I have, but she smiles, and does so gently. She opens cabinets to retrieve cream, sugar and such, so I take it as a nice time to seat myself.

Every time I come, there's always this sad feeling about her. I've asked Tooru if he'd noticed the same, but he shrugged it off and called me funny. (Typical.) I wonder, if he can't feel it, can't he see it? Although she shows only one of her eyes, I see enough melancholy in it for a pair. I'm sure I'm not the cause of her sadness. No, I mean…I pray I'm not the reason she hurts.

The same ache always comes back whenever I see her. Whether it's a glance or a gaze, the pain is the same. It's brought me to the sole conclusion that she must've been someone precious in my past life. I'm just too afraid to bring it up. I can't face my fears head on like that yet. _Yet_.

I wait for her to make the coffee in a slow, light silence. One of the things that serves me a plate of peace is this place, and I find it proves even more so when it's just her and I. Because I come so early in the morning, it's usually empty when I come in, and that's true relief for me.

I'm not attempting to be creepy, but my gaze keeps drifting over to her, even when I forcefully look away. Her hands when brewing the coffee are so loose, yet stressfully precise at the same time. I imagine someone amazing taught her, or she's been doing this for years. Or both. Her dark hair hangs limply on the back on her bare neck, and the skin there and everywhere is pale.

"Ah, thank you!" I smile gratefully as she walks toward me with a coffee in hand. It's a delicate, white mug sitting innocently on a small, thin, and glossy white plate. "Alright, um—I'm sorry, but how much is it again...? I keep forgetting," I laugh nervously. Every single time, like a curse, I forget the price. I've never had memory problems before, and when I say that, I'm referring to my short-term memory. As ironic of a joke it would've been, I must resist the urge.

"It's 3.50," she replies, "but," I swear I see determination in her eyes, "I don't want your money!" Her voice suddenly rises sharply to a shout, and her words _I don't want your money_ reverberate off the walls. Her eyebrows are slanted high in what resembles an odd mix of angry and determined. It's somehow—I don't know why, but it's somehow very—very _familiar—_

"_You idiot," Touka snapped angrily, swiftly flicking my forehead. I winced and rubbed the spot on my reddened forehead with my fingers. "This coffee you made isn't even drinkable anymore. You've added way too much cream." She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair._

"_I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I'm just trying to make it better, kinda like Mr. Yoshimura's! He's just…too skilled, I guess."_

"_And that's the truth," she agreed without a second's thought. "He's been doing this longer than any of us have. Nor you or I can make coffee like his!" She shuffled around impatiently for a moment and smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes. I noticed she always did that when she was searching for something to say._

"_Touka-chan?"_

"_Y'know what? I'm going to help you make another cup." It might've just been an illusion, but her voice sounded just a little bit quieter. _

"_Oh, thank you! You're too kind, Touka-chan!" I smiled brightly. I barely saw it, but a dark blush stained her cheeks. I could tell she knew I saw, because she socked me on the arm. "Ow, ow…" _

"_Come on, we can't keep the customer waiting," I swore I heard a little sunshine in her voice, "stupid Kane—" _

"Shit, I raised my voice again. I'm sorry, that was…Hello?"

She stands in front me, her expression redrawn with curiosity. Her figure suddenly looks so much clearer than usual, and all the new details I've never noticed are rather blinding. Like the small scar she has the tip of the right ring finger, and the mark of what looks like a tight rubber or maybe a ring on the same finger. I see how dark the shadows her long eyelashes cast. Her pink-stained lips are dry and chapped. They open and close, forming words and creating sentences, but I can't hear them.

I'm numb everywhere, but the exception is a sharp ache in my chest that's never been there before. It's piercing like the sharpest of words. I speak for the pain and my lost memories and the words that have been on the tip of my tongue this _entire_ time:

"**Touka-chan?"**

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Silence.

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No—no, I shouldn't have said that. My throat burns like I've just coughed up a drop of stomach acid, and my stomach feels like I just ate live octopus. It's disgusting, but this disgust isn't because of her or of us, but because of me. I don't know why, but I feel I've just done something horrible.

Her eyes widen hugely in raw horror. Her hands tremble like a staggering earthquake, and there's the crashing sound of shattering glass. I look briefly at the floor, only to have a glimpse a broken mug and plate. A bead of blood oozes from the scar on her ring finger.

Apologies pour out of my mouth, because now I'm _sure_ I've done something cruel. "I'm sorry—_I'm so sorry,_ are you alright? Here, I have a Band-Aid in my back pocket probably, er—I'm sorry. I don't have it." I sigh. "…I don't…know why I said that." It's just a name, but yet…

Tears drip down her face one by one, and then, all at once. Her eyes are glassy with a lake of tears, and the dam collapses with a tremble and a violent shudder. She steps away, her knees shaking.

She gasps quickly, and then she tries to hold her breath as she could stop everything, but she hiccups still. She holds a hand to her face to stifle the tears. Her other hand clenches in a tight fist by her side and it trembles.

I stand up, and I carefully shove the glass away in a pile to the side so I can stand in front of her. Her head is hung low, her hair shadowing her face. Was it her name I said? But, why would her name, out of everything, make me feel so _odd_?

"_**Kaneki!"**_

There's a sudden impact on my chest, and it takes me a second too long to realize she's hugging me. She's hiccupping quietly and murmuring something I can't hear. What did she call me?

"I told them all you'd come back, I knew it I knew it," she mumbles in my chest. "You asshole, you _asshole_ I've missed you somuchdoyouhave_anyidea—_" she gasps deeply. "Damnit, what the hell took you so long? I knew you weren't de…" I can't hear the last word. Her arms wrap around my torso and her hands meet in the middle of my back. Her grip is rather tight.

She murmurs the name I can't hear over and over, and it's beginning to sound like a mantra.

Since I'm there and I know she's someone important, I stand there rubbing circles on her back and listening to her cry. She stops talking and the only sound is her quiet sniffling. It hurts, more than anything, to see her like this. The sadness she wears shares itself with me, and it's painful and broken-glass sharp.

Out of all the things I've felt, this feeling of _her_ is probably the realist feeling to me.

This time, I'm certain—

She must have been one of my most precious people.

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_She's my most precious person..._

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please leave a review if you did. I do appreciate favorites, but reviews just let me know so much more, ahaha. Thanks for reading! I think I'll be writing more Tokyo Ghoul fanfictions later. And. Yeah, I'm thinking of continuing this into maybe a couple more chapters. Leave me a review if you would like to continue this! Thank you, and have a nice day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Please read the end author's note. Thanks, and enjoy.**

After all that's happened, it's hard to believe I'm back at :re.

I feel like I shouldn't be here, that I'm the odd one out of the perfect equation. And, that actually might be true. Not just at work or in society, but at this café. I feel like an intruder, but yet, I can't stop myself from going back.

It might be because of her. No, I _know_ it's because of her, the waitress. In all my thoughts, there's no if's or but's about it all, but just hard, solid fact. Then and now, she feels so real and true to me. I fear that she's too good, so good that she'll be gone by morning.

When I heard about a huge error in the morning process at work, I felt overwhelming relief. This was because of two reasons: First, I didn't have to go to work until later, and second, I was given an opportunity to see her again.

"I'm here to apologize," I recite to myself quietly as I stand in front of :re's front door. "I'm here to apologize and then maybe stay for a coffee. Nothing more, nothing less." The inside of my stomach must be lined in ice, for it feels so cold. I take a deep breath, and cover my face in my hands.

I've been out here for twenty minutes.

"I have to go in," I murmur, because it's the truth. Two weeks have already flown by since the last time I came. Those fourteen days may as well been as eternity. "Okay. I'm heading in."

In all my sensitive nerves, I swing the door open with an unexpected force. The bells clangs deafeningly and the rusty hinges give a strained, irritable screech. I almost flinch when the waitress, behind the counter again, turns to look at me. She doesn't do as well of a job, as she jolts back into the counter behind her.

"Good morning," she says in a tight voice. A thin smile stretches across her lips. "It's been a while."

"Good morning," I reply thickly. "Yeah, it's been a while." I had a script for this very conversation. I had it memorized in my brain, but my mind's gone blank. I can't summon right words. So instead, I stand there mindlessly, trying to sort out my thoughts. Luckily, she isn't even looking at me. Her twiddling thumbs are clearly more interesting.

"…What's the bag for?" she asks after a while. In the crook of my bent elbow lays a small, brown paper with little crinkles. Ah, I completely forgot about that, but it's the reason I came here.

I stride over to the counter, balancing the teetering bag on my arm. The low heels of my shoes click against the hardwood floor. Her gaze feels like a weight against my tight chest. I barely know her, I tell myself. She barely knows me, I reason. She's practically a stranger.

Yet, as much as I would like to believe that, the distant ache refuses to let me.

"This bag's for you. I mean, not the bag _itself_," I sputter, "but what's inside the bag." It's barely been ten seconds since I walked in, and I've already messed up my lines. I'll just have to roll with it.

"I told you, you didn't have to," she sighs, but her softened eyes and little bright smile say otherwise. I set the bag on the counter like delicate glass, making sure the item inside is safe. In silent urgency, I push the bag closer to her. She sighs again, but the brightness of her smile increases.

Then, she begins to open it.

Every movement is painfully slow. At least, that's what it feels like. I silently pray to the heavens above she likes it, because I don't know how I would back myself up if she despised it. I then lean, prop my elbows on the counter, and watch her open it.

It all speeds up, slows down, and reverts to normal speed at once. The next thing I know, she's reaching into the package, eyes glimmering with expectancy. She pulls out the present, and the excitement replaces with what resembles mild surprise.

"This is…" She trails off. The corners of her eyes crinkle in the smallest of smiles. In her hands is a smooth, round white mug with thin light blue stripes. On the front is a simple image of a pink rabbit. A wave of relief washes over me. If anything, she looks rather pleased.

"I'm sorry it's not much. I just felt bad for the broken mug and making you...cry. I know you said I didn't have to apologize, but I couldn't do that. I saw this when I was shopping and Mutsuki said you would like it and _I had to get it_ and I remembered last time and—" I snap my mouth shut. I never thought I was one to ramble, but this morning has surprises up to my neck. "…Yeah."

I bite my chapped lower lip and watch. She hasn't said anything else. Her eyes are trained on the mug, which she's turning around thoughtfully in her hands. Her expression frustrates me, because I can see the heavy sense of—nostalgia?—in her eyes, and it hurts.

"...Well," she starts slowly, "I can't use this for this cafe, if that's what you were suggesting. I actually already got. It's nice of you to give this to me, but you should keep it."

"You don't like it?" The words run straight past my thought process and out my mouth.

"No, it's great!" she protests suddenly. "On the contrary, I love it. It's just…if you bought this for the café to use, we can't use it." I blink in surprise.

"Actually, I didn't buy it for :re. It's a gift from me to you. It's more of an apology than repayment of the broken mug, really," I say with a small laugh.

"But, still—"

"Please accept my gift. I wouldn't use something like that home, Tou—" I bite hard down my tongue. She flinches and nearly drops the cup. "…I'm so sorry. I haven't even asked for your name and especially after last time…" I sigh softly. "I'm sorry, miss."

She exhales sharply. "No, it's alright." She closes her eyes for a second. "I'm Kirishima Touka. And you are?" Like a rock dropped into a still pond, her voice wavers.

"I'm Sasaki Haise. Nice to _officially_ meet you, Kirishima-san."

"And I you, Sasaki-san," she smiles. "Nice to meet you too."

Something tugs at my heart to see her expression. So beautiful, yet so tragic. It reminds me of looking at a slightly wilted flower. While the beauty is still there, the wilted petals can't grow back.

The sweet, sad softness behind her happy façade hurts. Even when I tried to make her a little happier, it still didn't end with my desired goal—her genuine happy expression.

"Hey." The words are out before I can stop them. "Are you available this Sunday?"

Her eyebrows arch and her eyes widen in a surprised expression.

"Yes, actually. Why do you ask?"

"Well..." A lump grows thickly in my throat. My words have never been smooth. "Well." I scratch the side of my head. "Would you like t-to go somewhere with me, then?" My voice comes out almost _squeaky_ at the end.

She looks even more surprised than she did a second ago, if not entirely shocked. A sudden heat crawls up my back, wraps around my neck and blemishes my cheeks. It's more difficult than I expected to keep a relaxed face. Kirishima-san opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

The silence seeps in, filling in the awkward gap. Frankly, I feel so undeniably hot it's hard to care about the silence.

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It's really quiet in here.

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"Yes, Sasaki-san, I would love to go. What time's good?"

_Oh thank heavens above she said yes._

**. . .**

"Hey, Sassan! Did ya know 'bout us not having work on Sunday?" I shift around on the couch, letting my tense back rest. Shirazu calls from the kitchen, eating dinner with Mutsuki.

"Yep," I say. I straighten my circular glasses, which almost slip off the tip of my nose. "I meant to tell you earlier, but I guess it just slipped my mind." My gaze flutters down at the papers in my lap.

"It's been a while since we've had a day off, so we should do something!" Mutsuki suggests. My heart clenches and plummets into my stomach. "Where'dya wanna go?"

"Hey, guys," I say quickly, "wait—"

"Zoo, maybe? I don't give a shit, as long as it isn't one'athose girly mall thingies."

"_Guys!_" I quickly slap my papers onto the table and scramble over to the kitchen.

"That's fine. I don't really care either, as long as we can go with everyone!" Mutsuki grins cheerfully. Guilt stabs me in the chest, and I stop midway.

"…Guys?" I croak out.

"Yeah?" Shirazu says. Mutsuki gazes curiously. I resist the urge to groan. They hear only when I don't yell. The smell of irony reeks.

"Well…" I trail off, finishing my sad shuffle to the kitchen table. "The thing is…well—y'see…" I hang my glasses on my thin shirt, sigh, and scratch my chin. "I'm busy that day."

"Busy?" Shirazu asks. "With what? It's not like we gotta work, and we're not on any cases right now. ...Right?"

"Yeah, you're right," I admit. "The thing is—I'm going out with a friend that day."

"Who is it, Sassan?" Shirazu wonders. "No offense, but we're kinda your only friends, other than some at the CCG."

"No, I have other friends!" I protest. …Even Mutsuki looks disappointed. "Okay, that's a lie, but I'm pretty sure she's my friend and we're definitely going out. No, I mean, not going out as we're in a relationship! I mean we're going out _somewhere._" I've been tongue-tied more and more recently.

"It's a girl?!" Shirazu and Mutsuki shout in unison. Their eyes shine likes little stars and sky rocket out of their seats. Oh, no, I didn't mean to specify the gender…

"Y—_Yess_," I choke out smoothly as possible. "She's a girl, but we can be friends, too."

"Is that why you've been going out to :re more often?" Mutsuki shoots suddenly. The statement almost makes me choke on oxygen. A lame comeback dies in my tight throat. I was so sure I was hiding my trail well. "Wait." He gasps. "Are you seeing that waitress?"

"_No_!" I scream. "Okay, no, it's her, it's the waitress!"

"You liar!" Shirazu snaps, angrily pointing his pointer finger at me. I flinch back. "This isn't just a friendly meeting!"

"W-What're you talking about?" I force on the most genuine smile I can muster. My head's practically drowning in all this panic.

"You can't hide the truth from me, Sassan," he laughs hauntingly. He strikes another daring pose. "This is most definitely, most certainly, most _positively—_" he smiles widely, "a _**date**__!"_ His last word rises and flies above my head glaringly.

With that, my soul leaves me.

The next minute disappears in a distant blur. There's the sound of someone stomping rapidly up the set of stairs, hollering a name, and then a door slamming open. There's a brief silence, and then a scream that would make babies proud.

The sound of pounding stairs returns and then a short blur appears in front of me.

"_Maman!_"

Saiko?

She gasps, resting a hand on her heaving chest. She stumbles and catches herself on the fridge. "I," she breathes, "am shocked I didn't hear 'bout this. Are you dating?" Her pigtails are all roughed up and fly-away strands are sticking out everywhere. Her cheeks are flushed pink.

"Saiko, calm down," I say soothingly. "I was going to tell you all about it. And—no, we're not dating!"

"You'd had better told us about it, 'cause this is really important!" They all shout.

"Is it really?" I sigh. They nod sharply. "Well, I suppose you know now. Sorry I can't take you guys anywhere, especially on our day off."

"Are you kiddin' me?" Shirazu laughs. "I don't even care about romance and that crap, but for some reason, I feel really happy for ya! Congrats!"

"I'm not getting married, silly," I roll my eyes just a little.

"You may as well be!" Saiko says in disbelief. "You? Going on a date? You've never even had any romantic urges," she murmurs. "Luckily, I'm a love expert."

"But, Saiko," Mutsuki protests, "you've never been in a relationship before-"

"I've been in relationship before (with fictional characters)! I know all about the dates. The heartbreak." She smiles lazily. "Especially about what you should wear. C'mon, we're gonna get you some good clothes."

"_What?!_" I exclaim. "But it's already seven!" I don't have time to go shopping. I have to go over my lines! "Sure, I don't have any special for tomorrow, but I'm sure I can dress myself."

"Sure, your work suit doesn't look so bad on you, but you can't just wear your work clothes," Saiko points out. "Besides, stores don't lose until—what, 10? Hey, this is the first time I've gotten out of my room _willingly_ in a long time, and I'm gonna make it worth it. Can you get a taxi, Maman? I'm gotta change." With that, she was gone.

"Saiko, I don't have time!" I yell weakly. There's no response. My head spins suddenly again. I take back everything I said about this being amusing. Well, if I don't call the taxi, then we can't go. Then, I hear soft, monotone ringing. "...Mutsuki, Shirazu, who're you guys calling?"

Shirazu has a phone held up to his ear, and Mutsuki leans his ear close to the phone's speakers.

"...Calling a taxi?"

An unbelievable gasp escapes my throat. "Guys," I begin weakly, "think about this for a minute. Is this really necessary?"

"Yeah. It is." Saiko is suddenly standing next to me, clad in baggy sweatpants, converse, and a thick sweatshirt. "Let's get going." She pulls me by the wrist, and before I can do anything, we're heading into a clothing store.

"Alright, listen here, I have the perfect thing for a tall guy like you…"

I groan loudly.

I should've just left on Sunday without telling any of them.

**AN: I wanted this to be more light-hearted than the last chapter, but I feel it's difficult to write in first person. It limits me and I'm not used to writing in it, so I'm sorry if it's bad. I didn't have much motivation to edit it a lot, either, so you'll have a little bit of the first draft. **

**At first, this was gonna be just an oneshot, but thanks to kind and supportive reviews, I've got a longer fanfiction planned for this now. I'll try and update maybe once a week, but no promises. I am downright horrible with updates, so if you would just be patient, that would mean the world for me. **

**Thank you for the reviews. If you guys didn't leave them, I wouldn't have considered continuing this at **_**all**_**. I know I sound really damn thirsty when I say this, but reviews make me get out of bed early in the morning. If you would just leave a couple kind words, that would make my day!**

**Thanks again, and have a nice day! 3 **


	3. Chapter 3

"Saiko, I still don't think this is a good idea—"

"Maman, I've said this at least, like, ten times in the past minute. You look fine."

_No, I bet I look horrible and no one's telling me._

Although I've never been to highschool, or at least "Sasaki Haise" hasn't, I feel like I'm there. Flustered, nervous, but strangely giddy—that's exactly it.

The cliché, nervousness on first dates, is perfectly understandable now. I am undeniably nervous. Ever since my mind started considering this meeting with Kirishima-san as a "date", I can't stop thinking it. Or rather, her. I asked Saiko why she called this a date, and she said it's because I was obviously attracted to her.

I can't deny the fact I have certainly been—well, _attracted_ to other people. Of course I have, but nothing like this. I don't even know where to begin describing it, considering it's impossible to put into words. Certainly, Kirishima-san is beautiful, but there's still something else that I can't put my finger on.

I'm guessing she's implying _because_ I'm attracted to her, I have ulterior motives—but I don't. Gods, no, I don't, but I do want to make a good impression either way.

"I don't look my age. No, I look like a fool," I mumble darkly under my breath. I squint at the hazy reflection of myself on the black TV screen. "This is also rather…uncomfortable." I tug at the tightly buttoned-up, clean white dress shirt, fixed neatly with a solid black tie. On top lays a simple unbuttoned black vest.

"Don' ya usually wear that shirt and tie whatever, though?" Shirazu yawns loudly, mouth stretching open to impossible lengths, and shifts positions on the couch.

"Er—yeah," I answer lamely, "but I'm just not used to this weird material for my dress shirts, let alone these tight jeans (they're riding up on me, too)."

"Come _on_," Saiko sighs tiredly. She clicks the small lock button on her iphone and sits up on the couch. "You look great, and you totally look your age. Remember, you're only 22 (and, hey, those skinny jeans are a Saiko-favorite)."

"Okay, note taken," I admit, "but I've worn skinny jeans before, and these are unnaturally tight—"

"_Please. I'll come out of my room more often if you wear them just for today._" She stares at me straight in the eye, and her expression goes intensely serious, yet desperately pleading.

"Alright" is all I can spit out. My voice comes out tighter than intended. It's been a while since she's been so _motivated_, per se. I suppose it would be a good idea to fulfill her wishes, considering she's not getting anywhere sitting in her room.

My gaze goes toward my reflection again.

"…Guys—"

"Sassan, yer fuckin' beautiful. Good?" Shirazu glares at me and then roughly throws the blanket over his head and body. "You've been doin' this all morning an' I wanna sleep."

"But—"

"_Maman_, if you don't realize how nice you look this instant…!"

"Okay, okay!"

. . .

"Kirishima-san?"

I walk in at the prompted time, expecting her small figure behind the counter, perhaps having a morning coffee. I'm right. My lips subconsciously smile at the mug in her hands—the one I specifically gave to her. A shiver of odd warmth prickles my skin.

"Good morning, Sasaki-san." She takes a small sip before setting it down with a soft clink. Her smile flashes briefly.

"Good morning," I breathe. "Sorry I'm late. I…lost track of time," I laugh uncomfortably. I couldn't possibly say I was late because I was too busy fussing over my appearance. My skin feels too tight for my body, as do the clothes.

"It's fine, it's only been ten minutes." She tiptoes out from behind the counter. "You're not late at all, really." She steps out into the clearing of tables and chairs, walking towards me. Only now do I see her attire changed, but of course it did. After all, it is a date—_I mean—_no, I'm done trying to correct my irritating thoughts.

A long, baggy burgundy shirt with thin white stripes hangs loosely off her figure, and her neck adorns a simple beige scarf. A modest, knee-length skirt frames her legs. I raise my gaze and see her lips were stained a gentle poppy red. I open my mouth to say something and silence comes out.

She's—

"Lovely," I say. "You look lovely," and I don't re-correct myself. There's nothing to correct in a truth, after all.

Surprise forces her mouth and eyes wide and her cheeks flush a light red. She blinks and bites her lower lip. The early surprise is gone, but the blush isn't. A smile creeps up my lips, and I don't—or rather, I can't—force it back down.

"Thank you," she says, and I'm disappointed to hear her sound so composed. "I don't know if I look that nice, compared to you." My confident smile crumbles, and she triumphantly notices this. She says nothing, but her eyes speak for her.

"I—I wouldn't say _that_. I don't even think I look good," I admit bashfully and fiddle with the cuffs of my coat.

"Stop worrying," she insists. It may be and probably is just my imagination, but I can't shake off the feeling of a certain difference about her. "I didn't worry much about my appearance myself."

"Is that so?" A lightbulb goes off in my head. "Your make-up tells me otherwise." A corner of her mouth dips down and I stifle a laugh.

"Honestly," she huffs. "Were you staring at my face?"

"Well…" I hurriedly search for something to say, "Would there be a reason I wouldn't meet the eyes of a person I'm talking to?" My smile widens so much my cheeks ache.

"Smartass," she groaned quietly. I think I can see what's so different. It's her actual, real personality surfacing, instead of her hunky-dory waitress façade. And—

I like it.

"Crap, I'm sorry," she says quickly, her eyes widening. "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, I really do like you like that. It seems more real." I wink. She relaxes. "Shall we get going, milady?" I hold out my hand for her to take, but she glances at it and shoos it away. I force a sad sigh back down my throat.

"Sure. Where're you taking me, anyway?"

"Well, would you mind a—"

. . .

"…This is your idea of a dating spot?"

"Er, yes? …Don't tell me it's _that_ lame, please." Her eyes are written with disbelief as they glance upward at the front sign, _The Drowsy Poet._ "Well, since there were books in :re, I thought maybe a bookstore would be okay, um—"

"Some things never change, it seems…"

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing. Well, since we're here, we may as well get inside, right?"

"R—Right."

She insists that it isn't a problem, but the guilt isn't going away. Saiko warned me that she may not like books, and while it doesn't entirely seem that way, I'm still wary of my decision. At the same time, I'm trying to get over the fact she said this was a "dating spot". I thought I was the only one thinking that.

"Sasaki-san?" she says as I close the door behind us. A rush of warm air hits my frozen face.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Do you read—Tatatsuki Sen?"

"How did you know?" I grin cheekily. I wish I knew there was a way to get for her to relax, for she's so unreasonably tense. "Why, do you read his books, too?"

"Yeah, actually. An old friend of mine introduced me," she murmurs faintly. Her eyes go cloudy. "I was wondering if you read his book 'The Black Goat's Egg'." We absentmindedly drift over to the horror section, where a certain author's books sit on the shelves.

"No, I haven't," I reply. "Is it good? Maybe I'll buy it." I observe her squinting at the dark spines of Tatatsuki Sen's books and plucking one out of the array. "Is that it?"

"Mhm," I confirm. She suddenly plops the book into my hands without warning, so I fumble it around until I get a proper grip on it. "Out of all her books, that one's my favorite. I'm surprised you haven't read it, since you sound like an avid fan."

"Well, now I will," I point out with a second's smile. "May I also recommend you a book?"

"Sure," she shrugs, but does so stiffly. "And what would that book be?"

"Follow me." I hold out my hand again, but as expected, she refuses to take it. With a sigh, I start walking, and she tags along behind me. We loop around the towers of bookshelves, quiet artists with perceptive, sharp glasses, books splayed on the floor (which I resist the urge to pick up and shelve), and reach the aisle I was looking for.

"Ro—Romance?" She echoes, looking at the sign on the bookshelf. "Sasaki-san, I really don't like—"

"Me neither," I admit, "but there's one book, or should I say one _author_, that I will read from this genre. Have you heard of John Green?"

"Obviously," she says in an instant, "but I didn't expect you to read books for teenage girls." I see an after image of a humored expression.

"I'm sure you won't be saying that after you read this," I scoff. "Besides, this is a young adult book, and it's great. Who said only girls could read romance, anyway? Like I said, I generally don't like romance, but I enjoyed this." The bright blue of the smooth spine pops out to me immediately, and I smoothly pull out the book.

"The…Fault in Our Stars," she reads slowly off the blue cover. I press it gently into her hands. "You cannot be serious. This book is just—"

"Have you read it?"

"…No," she admits after a while.

"Then, you should read it. It's wonderful," I sigh contentedly. "I was _this_ close to sobbing all over my copy. But, I have to keep a proper image in front of the others." She snorts. "Hey, it's a good book, so don't come crying to me when you finish it. …No, actually, when you finish it, I would love to talk to you about it, so forget I just said that. Anyway, like I said, it's a good book. It's most certainly romance, but it's obviously so much more than that. Just—just read it. I'm not getting anywhere blabbing away here."

"Yeah, you're not," she agrees so bluntly it hurts. "You really love books, don't you? You rambled."

"Ah, did I?" I laugh awkwardly. "Sorry about that. I just, yeah, love books." I look up at her, and this small smile hangs off her mouth. I meet her gaze and her smile falls off. _Damn it_. "Well, if I can have that book back, I'll go ahead and pay for us—"

"Us?"

"Yeah, us. You didn't think I would let you pay—_hey!_" She snatched The Black Goat's Egg right out of my hand and sprinted off! "Kirishima-san!" I run quietly after her, trying my best to keep my feet's impact soft. "_Kirishima-san!"_

I find her hurriedly giving the two books to the male cashier at the front, and just before she hands the money to him, I wrestle my through and swat her hand away with my own money.

"Sasaki-san, just let me pay!" she snaps irritably. She angrily slaps my hand away and tries to push me back with her (painfully bony) elbows, but I forcefully lean my body weight across the counter and practically smash my money into the cashier's hand. The cashier laughs softly, shakes his head, and takes my money.

"Here's your change and books, sir," the cashier says pleasantly. I thank him, ignoring Kirishima-san's annoyed rambling, and turn to face her.

"You should've just let me pay," she groans heatedly. Her cheeks have tinged pink. I smirk and shake my head.

"Nonsense. I invited _you,_ so naturally, I should pay. Is that how it usually works?" I smile. She narrows her eyes at me and rolls her eyes. I can't resist from letting a snicker pass through my lips. I take the romance book and wedge it between her hands. She shoves it into her bag.

"Okay," she sighs. "Now that _that's_ over—let me take you somewhere."

"Are you sure? I mean, this _is_ my treat."

"Your treat, my treat, whoever's treat, I don't care. It's not like you had anywhere else planned after this."

"A—Ah, how did you—"

"I had a premonition." I see a faint flicker of a smile, like an almost-dead lightbulb. "Let's go."

"But where is it?"

She blinks in surprise. "It's not like I knew where you were taking me when we left. I just…trusted you. So do you…" _Trust me?_

"Yes," I say, and it feels just right.

. . .

"Kirishima-san?"

"What is it?"

"I...don't know how to ice-skate."

To think that I had hope is laughable.

Perhaps I should've expected it. As a matter a fact, I really should have. I recognized the bustling area, and the chill air made it perfect for the occasion.

It's an outdoor skating rink.

However, I _still_ don't know how to ice skate, and I'm going to make a fool out of myself.

If it was anyone else, I'm certain I would've been a little more comfortable about failing to ice skate in front of their eyes and the general public. However, because it's her, it's next to impossible for me to relax. Her presence makes my nerves jump at the brush of a strand of hair.

"Cool it, you'll be fine." Kirishima-san walks back to me and gently drops a pair of red skates at my feet. They topple over with a heavy thunk. Over my shoulder, I glance past the open gates into the rink, full of chattering families and friends. "If you're really that worried, we can do this another time."

"No," I answer back immediately. "Besides, you already paid for the skates." …Wait. "…Damn, you _already paid _for the skates," I realize bitterly. "Here, let me pay you back—" My hand goes to my back pocket for my wallet, but she stops me.

"Honestly, just let me spend my own money," she rolls her eyes sarcastically. "It was cheap, anyway."

"Alright," I reply weakly. I sit down, lean against the wall, and wiggle my bare feet into the skis. She grabs one of the lonely chairs and sits down, doing the same.

"Have you never ice-skated before?" She asks curiously. She ties the last knot on her skis.

"I have," I argue, "but I happen to be very bad at it. I can't even keep my balance—hey, what's that look for?"

"Hah, I just find it kind of ironic, since you were the one who taught me how to—" All the color drains visibly from her face. "I mean, my friend—he taught me. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I say, and it's a lie. "Is this the same friend who likes Tatatsuki Sen?"

For some reason, her eyes grow darkly bitter, like black coffee. "Yes, that's him. Anyway, you do know how to at least get them on, right?" I decide it's a bad time to point out the swift change of subject.

"Of course," I say indignantly, even though I don't entirely know exactly. I start tying the laces.

Halfway through, she says, "Sasaki-san, let me do it. It's going through the wrong loops."

"Really?" I bite out. "Uh, it's fine, you can just—tell me how to—" Protesting is futile, so I let her tie up my skates. "...I'm sorry." This is pathetic.

"Don't be," she replies. "Done." My feet feel like bricks, clunky and heavy. "Can you walk?" Am I expected to walk and balance on these single blades? Sadly, I think yes. I grip my chair tightly, and push myself up. I teeter for a split second, but I regain my balance.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I exhale in relief. In the corner of my eye, I catch a group of kids practically sprinting in their skates. "This is probably as far as I'll get," I laugh lamely.

"Nonsense," she huffs. "Skating is easy. You'll get it right away. You're an investigator, aren't you? You've been in worse situations."

"Yeah, that's true, but—"

"Let's get going," she interrupts. She takes the lead, walking easily while I waddle awkwardly behind her. She takes a glance back, makes a face, and her shoulders start shaking.

"Please stop laughing," I say weakly. Little by little, my dignity crumbles. "Are we there yet?" Her laughs are noticeably muffled, as if she's trying to stifle the noise.

"Y—Yes," she gasps after a moment. She turns to face me, and she has one last laugh. I believe this is the first time I've ever seen her laugh so freely and deeply.

"Get ready." She pushes the gate out, and the rusty metal hinges squeak tiredly. The cold gets colder, and it washes over my face unpleasantly. Kirishima-san steps on first, and the way she keeps her balance is unnatural. I follow suit and set my foot on the ice, and I already feel myself slipping.

"Kirishima-san—help, help—" I choke out, and she grips my flailing hands and tugs my on. I exhale in relief and to cool my nerves. "...I'm sorry!" I cry.

"Would you stop apologizing?" she says exasperatedly. "You're fine." My grip subconsciously tightens as she swiftly pulls me up. She's unexpectedly strong.

"Okay," I reply meekly. As I try to loosen my probably painful iron grip on her hand, I realize, "Hey, we're holding hands."

She chokes, tears her hand away from me, and I yelp. My ankles shake and I swear the ice itself is moving and my arms flail to grip for something and—

"Ugh," I moan as get myself off the slippery ice. "That was unexpected."

"I was just helping you balance, and that's all it'll be," she states more coldly than the ice. She extends her hand. I smirk knowingly, but say nothing when I take it. "Let's go, you're not gonna learn standing still." I make sure my grip on her hand is firm. If I let go again—

I would mostly definitely fall again, which I have to say was embarrassing.

It would be difficult to find another chance to hold her hand again.

"Don't rush it. Relax." She skates smoothly next to me, her grip still reassuring on my hand. I can feel my legs shaking, and it's not just because of the cold temperature. I breathe, and I can see my breath.

"Yeah," I choke out. Even with her hand, I find my other hand desperately gripping the wall.

I really am not in the mood to fall right now.

"Relax, Sasaki-san," she repeats. "Relax."

"Yep, relax, relax," I mumble to myself. "Relax, right? _Relaxing._"

"…Should we stop?"

"No, we just started!"

"But you like you're going to piss yourself."

"That's because I don't know. How to ice skate," I finish, "and that's why _you_ have to teach me." Her lips twitch upward.

"Fine then, if you insist. Now, hold on tight."

My other hand finds her other, and she holds me by both hands as I skate. She stands in front of me, telling me how to angle my feet and move my legs. Then, I fall again, and when she worryingly comes to get me up, I finally notice other's amused stares. After that, our grips on each other's hands are even tighter.

When I let go of her hands, I yearn for her hands again, but it gives me freedom to glide swiftly side by side with her. I cook up a quick chat, and it transforms into a long, winded conversation about pleasant, random things. The weather, favorite seasons, the best way to have coffee, Tatatsuki Sen's books, our jobs, and our life.

It's wonderful.

I tell a few puns, and she laughs and cringes at the same time. Then, we pass around compliments, which I'm sure is otherwise known as mature flirting, and I think I like it.

"Kirishima-san, what's your family like?" I ask suddenly. The movement in my legs is practically robotic. "I would love to meet them."

"I—I have a younger brother," she speaks. "He lives on his own in America, so...he's not here. My parents died from a chronic illness when we were young, so we were adopted by our grandparents, who also recently passed away due to age," she spits out all at once. For such a simple question, she's surprisingly flustered.

"Oh. I'm sorry for asking such a rude question."

"It's okay, you didn't know."

A certain awkwardness settles in, and I want to say something, but there's nothing to say.

"Touka-chan! Is that you?"

Kirishima-san's head whirls around, looking for the person who called out. I look around, too, and I find a girl with a short bob-cut and blunt bangs.

"Yoriko-chan?" Kirishima-san calls out. "One second," she says to me, and then she glides away. They exchange a brief hug, and her friend smiles so brightly I fear for my eyesight.

Kirishima-san's shoulders look tense, but she soon relaxes. The light weight of her smile and the softness in her eyes tells me this Yoriko is precious to her.

Kirishima-san waves her hand at me to come over, so I promptly skate to them.

"Hey, aren't you that dude I met in her apartment?" Her friend, who I assume to be named Yoriko. She cocks her head to the side.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've ever met," I reply rigidly. I've…_never_ seen her else. How would she…?

"Maybe it was someone else, Yoriko-chan," Kirishima-san answers nervously. I know she's just fidgety because of the cold, because the skating should've warmed her up.

"Yeah, maybe," Yoriko sighs regretfully. "Where is that guy, anyway—"

"Hey, let's worry about that later, okay? Sasaki-san, could you introduce yourself?"

"Of course," I comply. "I'm Sasaki Haise. Nice to meet you, ah…?"

"Kosaka Yoriko," she supplies with a bright smile. "Nice to meet you too, Sasaki-san! Are you dating Touka-chan?"

"_Yoriko-chan_!" Kirishima-san yells, her face bursting a vibrant pink. I feel my face turn just as dark, if not entirely red. How could she just ask that…?

"No, not yet," I mumble to myself. Kosaka-san smirks widely, and lightly elbows Kirishima-san, who looks about ready to die. "I mean—no, we're not, we're just_ friends._" I refuse to believe I let myself slip up so badly.

"Hey," Kosaka-san whispers not-so-softly in Kirishima-san's ear. I can hear her just fine. "He totally has the hots for you, and can I say he looks pretty fine? Touka-chan, you really hit the jackpot this time."

Kirishima-san does a better job of whispering angrily back to her friend, and she keeps glancing back to me. I-I'm flattered by her friend's compliment, really, but at the moment, I'm focusing on how to not faint from overheating.

"Thank you?" I squeak out uncertainly. My hand subconsciously scratches the back of my head, and I force it down. "I don't know if I would say I had 'the hots' for her—"

"Are you saying she's unattractive?!" Kosaka-san gasps. She smacks her hand over her chest, seemingly highly offended. "I cannot believe—Touka-chan is, well, pretty much the prettiest girl ever. Do you have any idea how many times she was asked out at school? Dang, some of those guys were pretty good looking, too!"

"_Yoriko-chan._"

"Oh, I wasn't saying that at all." My mouth moves without thought. "On the contrary, pretty isn't enough to describe it. She's beautiful." Kirishima-san inhales sharply, and her face turns a dark red-pink.

Crap. "I—I mean—no, I do think that, but I didn't mean to say—I'm sorry," I say finally, and I feel heat staining my cheeks, so I look down.

"Gosh, Sasaki-san, I'm happy that you show such an interest in Touka-chan, especially since you seem like such a good guy," Kosaka-san laughs. She claps a hand on my back, and her slap stings. "Well, I'm here with family, so I'll be going. Bye, guys! And, Sasaki-san?" She grins widely. "Take good care of her, okay? Bye!"

"Ko-Kosaka-san, wait!"

She's gone.

I only hear the hard scratching of blades against ice and bubbly conversation. The cold air rushes around my burning ears. The aftershock sinks in and I let out a strangled noise.

"I—I'm sorry, that was—"

"No," she interrupts. "Don't apologize." A smile creeps up her lips. Her smile expands, shines, and her eyes turn into endless constellations on a starry night. I freeze and let it all sink in. All sound compresses and then dispels, only leaving silence behind. I open my mouth, and words form in my mind, and I—

"Hey! Don't stand in the middle of the rink!" An employee says. We snap out of our reverie, nod, and get back on track.

. . .

When we reached the café, where I learned her apartment was in, the lamps shined like stars.

"Hey, Kirishima-san?" I say when she shuffles to a stop before the front door. "Thank you for…coming with me. It's been a while since I've enjoyed myself that much." To my surprise, the words don't feel forced at all. A certain heavy weight begins deflating inside of me.

"Same here," she agrees. "Will you read the book I recommended?"

"As long as you read yours," I laugh. She makes an irritated face, but nods nonetheless.

"Tell me what you think about the book next time," I suggest. I shift my weight onto one leg, since my feet ache numbly.

"Next time?" she repeats slowly and raises a suspicious eyebrow.

"Yeah," I breathe. "Just one time isn't enough, don't you think?" I watch her facial expression tense up, and then relax.

"Greedy," she mutters under her breath and her glance flickers to the ground, "but...yeah. It's not enough." She blinks.

"So, there will be another date, right?" I ask. I internally panic when I realize I've used the wrong term again, but I stop myself from amending my words, because it doesn't seem so wrong anymore.

"Depends." There's a split second smirk. "Depends on whether you would ask again."

"Is that so?" I smile. "Then we'll be meeting up a _lot_, Kirishima-san."

"Don't get your hopes up," she says quickly. "I never said whether I was free or not."

"Me neither, but I'd make time if I had to." She smiles tiredly, and I bite my tongue to resist a yawn. "I had a lot of fun today. So, I really do hope we can do this again."

"Buy maybe ten more coffees and I'll consider it," she says sarcastically. Or perhaps seriously—it's hard to tell. Laughter bubbles and rises.

"Well, I'll…see you later, then?" My heart takes a somersault.

"Yeah. Good night, Sasaki-san." She smiles softly.

"Good night, Kirishima-san."

She closes the door, and I wonder.

How could heaven be better than this?

**AN: It's really fucking late and I'm tired. This turned out also really damn long, but I did it. For the team. For you guys. Also it kinda turned out that way. Man, I'm sorry, I am just so wasted right now after skyping, minecraft, and fanfiction.**

**Also apologies for the late update, it kept slipping my mind. **

**Tell me what you thought about the date and if it was enjoyable to read, because I can't write dates, ahaha. I have NO experience. Well, I'd like it if you just left a little something about what you thought. ^w^**

**Thank you so much for reading, lovelies! I'll see you later in a week with another update! 3**


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